


Yes, I've licked a lamp-post, but...

by ElyssaCousland



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:06:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElyssaCousland/pseuds/ElyssaCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one-off that ended up having some sequels - a bunch of scenes that occurred to me - in the first, my character, Elyssa, tried to explain why she wasn't the blushing virgin you might expect of a young noblewoman. It expanded from there, as it always seems to...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, I've licked a lamp-post, but...

"Maker's breath, but you are beautiful," he said, causing a shiver to run down her spine.  His eyes burned into her, and she knew she was lost.  The kisses they had shared up until now had been tentative, sensitive, though intense - just like him.  She knew something had changed, however.  She tried to maintain eye contact, but it wasn't possible to meet that smoldering gaze for long.  She leaned in, instead, and pressed her face into his neck. With his armour on, it was the only skin she could come into contact with - he was nearly a head taller than her, and wearing platemail from the neck down.  "Thank the Maker he took off that helmet," she thought.  It was a giant, blackened thing with horns and red around the eye openings; she thought it would give her pause in combat, if she looked upon that helmet, but as much as she appreciated whatever protection it provided him, it wasn't great for romance.

"Come into my tent, Alistair.  Stay with me tonight."  She didn't say it out loud. 

Even as a whisper, it would have felt too loud, too final.  She suffered a pang of anxiety - she thought she knew his feelings, but what if she was wrong?  She was the only one who had said anything, committed feelings to spoken words.  Though to be fair she'd thought he was dying at the time, and would not have volunteered otherwise. 

They had been doing a complex courting dance for months.  They had exchanged small gifts - he had given her a rose, picked in a town they passed through a few weeks back, running ahead of the horde of darkspawn; she had given him a small statue, carved from Onyx, of a dragon; a merchant in the same small town had traded her for it for a few rations of food.  Neither gift was very practical on the road, but they both cherished the memories of the exchange.  To an outsider, it would have seemed awkward when he first gave her the rose; he had stuttered, and finally asked "do you know what this is?"  But she saw the sweetness of it, the fear of hope that bloomed on his face as he shyly offered it to her, and loved him more for it.  The smile of genuine, childlike delight when she'd handed him the tiny statue was well worth stifling her laughter at his bumbling.  He'd caught her hand, kissed her fingers, and she knew she was his.  But she didn't say it; neither of them spoke for a few hours afterwards, too wrapped up in their own insecurities to risk it.  When they'd finally made camp, the presence of the others and the easy routine of preparing supper and erecting tents helped the awkwardness fade and they were able to carry on. 

He'd stolen his first kiss that night, sitting together on a massive tree root, watching the sunset.  The red reflection of the clouds was beautiful, but they both knew the cause wasn't anything as peaceful as it seemed - fires burned in the south, and the darkspawn were feeding on the dead.  It made the kiss seem that much more intense, and they both scrambled to their respective tents to hide the desire and embarrassment for the night.  But in the morning, while she was gathering wood, he surprised her in the forest, out of sight of the camp, and kissed her again.  Over the next few weeks, the pattern continued - brief kisses, stolen by one or the other, in the few moments when no one else was looking.  They didn't talk about it, couldn't bring themselves to speculate on their future; they just captured every memory they could, and tried to pretend nothing was happening as much as possible.

Finding time started becoming more and more difficult. Between the long, dangerous treks through unforgiving wilderness and openly hostile settlements, and their traveling companions, it was harder and harder to sneak away.  Wynne was watching, as always, a surrogate mother who would likely disapprove; Zevran kept up with his not so subtle advances when they made camp, and Elyssa was starting to suspect that for all of Morrigan's sarcasm and barbs, she hadn't failed to see the appeal of the strong, sweet, self-deprecating Templar either.  Tensions were rising, and an explosion was looming; Alistair would visibly stiffen every time Zevran got within ten feet of her, and Elyssa had to restrain herself from interjecting comments into Alistair's verbal sparring matches with Morrigan.

But two days ago, that had all changed.  They had been ambushed by a group of Loghain's Elite as they emerged from the wilderness heading towards Denerim.  The battle had been fierce, and Wynne had been stunned, unable to heal; they won, and killed 14 of Loghain's men, but when the dust settled, Elyssa found Alistair in a pool of blood at the centre of where the worst of the fighting had been.  A stray spear had found an opening in his armour under his armpit, and impaled him still.  She searched frantically for some sign of life, unable to summon enough breath to call for Wynne; under her breath she muttered a mantra that consisted of "You can't leave me, you bastard," and "I love you, Alistair."  She hadn't even realized that Wynne had arrived until she felt his hand briefly clench hers, and then he passed out.  Wynne, Morrigan, Zevran, and Leliana were all standing there staring at her in shock.  No one spoke a word, but Elyssa heard Morrigan muttering to herself later - "Love, is it?  I suppose I shall have to leave that alone."

Alistair slept the remainder of the day on a hastily assembled travois, and the group took turns pulling him through the night until they found a campsite that seemed safe.  The next afternoon, when he finally woke, he said nothing, and Elyssa couldn't decide if she was relieved or disappointed.  They talked about inconsequential things, sharing small touches and hesitant smiles, and for once, the group left them alone.  Magical healing was an amazing thing - despite the severity of the injury, Alistair would bear only a faint scar; what it gave in health, however, it took in stamina, and he was exhausted.  He slept intermittently, and Elyssa took it upon herself to feed him when his arms were too tired to continue.  By the morning, his energy was back and he seemed almost his normal self, though strangely subdued.  Instead of his usual persistent questions, teases, and jokes as they walked, he remained quiet and thoughtful.  He sat alone at supper, and only Wynne dared approach him; they spoke very quietly for a half hour, after which she pointedly retired to her tent.  Elyssa, lost in thought sitting beside the campfire, didn't notice until Alistair sat down beside her, but the entire group was conspicuously absent. 

She inquired about his injury, and he laughed it off. 

"I've had worse.  You should see the scar from when I was bucked off a horse during my training at the Chantry.  I landed on a crumbling stone ruin, and a great block fell and crushed my breastplate.  Mind you, looking at this scar this morning, that mage the Chantry kept was a total hack.  Wynne is a true professional."

They got up and walked together, and she noticed he was angling her away from the others' tents.

"Oh yeah?  Have you lots of scars from your training, then?"

"Mostly mental." Alistair laughed.  "It's unfair, too - the other boys at the Chantry told me that girls like scars.  Mine aren't visible!"

"Is there a girl you're trying to impress, then?"

"Hmm.  Yes, there might be."

"Do tell!  Do I know her?"

"Oh, I think you've met her once or twice.  She's independent, strong, pretty...and that long black hair and revealing armour aren't bad either!" 

"Bastard!  Trying to impress Morrigan are you?  Damn it, why is your armour so blasted hard?"  Elyssa rubbed her elbow ruefully, and he guffawed.

"That's not the first time I've been called a bastard," he said, after a few moments. He grinned at her, ducking his head, and she blushed and spun away from him.  He caught her arm and spun her back, leaving her slightly dizzy; when her head cleared, she realized that he held her, pressed against him, and his face was slowly descending towards hers. 

"Maker's Breath, but you are beautiful."

She tried to maintain eye contact, but it wasn't possible to meet that smoldering gaze for long.  She leaned in, instead, and pressed her face into his neck.  He held her like that for a moment, savoring the contact, until she regained control and gazed up at him again.

She unconsciously licked her lips, and lifted herself up onto her toes to close the distance between them.  His hand snugged up to her neck, tilting her head and holding her to him, prolonging the kiss.  Their mouths opened slightly, and she gently touched his lower lip with her tongue, eliciting a deep groan from Alistair.  He squeezed her even closer, their breath coming in pants as their tongues met for the first time.  The kiss seemed to go on forever, but somehow still end too soon as she squirmed and gently pushed him away.  He was disappointed as she escaped his grasp, and she must have known because she chuckled softly.  Hurt registered on his face, but she silenced him with a finger on his lips before he could ask.

"Your armour is pointy."  She gestured to indentations in her own, lighter leather, and he was immediately contrite.

"I'm so sorry, love.  I wasn't thinking."  He heard her gasp, and glanced at her face to see all the blood draining out of it.  He thought back over what he had just said.  He reached up and took her hand, which was still resting lightly on his chin, and gently turned it so he could kiss her palm.

"I do, you know.  Love you."  He saw hope and skepticism warring behind her eyes. 

"I mean it, 'Lys.  I have loved you from the first time I saw you.  Do you remember?  You came upon me sassing that mage, on an errand from the Revered Mother in Ostagar.  Your eyes twinkled, and I swear you were laughing when the arrogant bastard wasn't looking.  Everyone in camp had been so dour for weeks, and when you smiled at me the first time, it felt like when the sun comes out for the first time after a solid month of rain."

Elyssa blushed and looked down, and Alistair gently lifted her chin, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear.  "I heard you, after that ambush.  I heard you saying my name, over and over, telling me not to die because you loved me.  Before I heard it, I could feel myself slipping away.  Once I joined the Grey Wardens, I figured I would die in battle, and before you found me, I thought it was my time.  But then I heard you, and I couldn't go.  Not before I told you that I love you too."

He squeezed her hand, and then let go with an oath as she grimaced when his armour dug into her skin again.  He glanced around, then walked away from her to put his back against a massive oak tree trunk.  He slid down until he was half sitting, half squatting, and then adjusted a couple of times until he felt comfortable.  He held his hand out to her, and she slowly approached and took it.  He pulled her towards him, and she noted she was now very slightly looking down at him to make eye contact.

"How's this?  I'd really like to kiss you right now but I'm afraid of hurting you again.  Like this, you can just lean in and I promise not to squeeze you."

Elyssa laughed, but then settled in against him and kissed him again.  This time their tongues met sooner, and they were both out of breath again.  Elyssa pulled back slightly, running her fingers through his sandy hair and examining his face thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Just trying to find some courage."

"Courage?  You're the bravest woman I know!  You would charge alone and unarmed into the middle of the damn blight!  You need more courage like I need a hole in the head."  Elyssa threw her head back and let out a peal of laughter.

"I'd almost rather do that than what I am about to do."

"Oh, and what are you about to do?"

"Alistair...I'd like to invite you into my tent.  For- for the night.  Tonight.  If you want."

"I...Maker's Breath, Elyssa!  I wasn't expecting that."

"Well, you don't have to if you don't want to."

"Oh, I want to.  Believe me.  I really, really want to.  I just-"

"I know.  The timing.  And the war.  We both could die.  And you might become king!  I just, um, just, well, I think..."

"Oh, that's not it!  Honestly.  I mean, yes, the timing is awful, but it's not likely to get much better in the foreseeable future, is it?  It's not that.  It's just...well, you know I was raised in the Chantry."

"Yes."

"And Templars are raised and trained in seclusion.  It's pretty much boys only.  Yes?  The only women we knew were a few of the sisters and the Revered Mother.  And they were all old."

"Okay...?"

"It's just...I've never, well, done anything like that before.  With anyone."

"Well, that's not necessarily an excuse not to, ever in the future, you know."

"Oh, I know, I just...what if I don't know what I'm doing?  What if I do something wrong?  I could hurt you.  Look at what I did, and all we were doing was kissing!  Or just...I couldn't stand you leaving because of that.  I'd rather not at all than hurt you by accident."

"Alistair.  You sweet, sheltered man.  Listen to me.  On the battlefield, in decisions for the Grey Wardens, you follow my lead.  Yes?  Nod if you agree.  Good.  Now.  What if that trend just continues?"

Alistair looked confused, his head still nodding from the previous question, a curious frown creasing his forehead.  Elyssa took his hand, pulling him up from his seat on the tree trunk, pulling him towards her tent.  She noticed that her tent was set up at a distance from the others, sheltered in the shade of the cliff they had camped beside.  Her tent would have not only privacy, but protection - anyone attacking them would have to go through the other tents first to get to hers.  She made a mental note to thank Leliana later.

"Just follow my lead, my love."

It was a good thing that despite her protests, their small group had somehow procured her a large tent because she was their leader, she decided.  She had never before appreciated just how truly large a six-and-a-half foot tall man in full plate armour was.  He'd left his massive greaves, gloves, and helmet outside, but he still couldn't stand straight, and took up a large portion of the tidy tent.  She was also glad for the arcane lamps they had purchased at the Circle tower; if they'd relied on open flame for light in the tent, they'd surely have a fire the first time he waved an arm.  He stood slightly stooped, arms tucked in, glancing around at her tent.  She couldn't fail to notice how his eyes kept returning to her sleeping pallet, and she realized it had been added to, somehow, to make room for two.  Another thing to thank Leliana for, Elyssa guessed.

Her hands were shaking, but she realized that the first step was going to have to be hers, given his inexperience.  She stepped up to him and leaned up to kiss him, which was made awkward by the clunky armour he still wore.  She sighed.

"We need to get this armour off, Alistair."  He nodded, and indicated the strap release that would allow the massive chest plate to come off.  Everyone in any army was familiar with this procedure - plate armour was not exactly a single-person job.  However, Elyssa had never performed this particular task for Alistair, and it seemed strangely intimate.  Elyssa knew he wore a thinner, lighter set of leather garments underneath to protect him from the pointiness of the armour she had already discovered.  They worked together to free him from his metal prison, and soon he was much less encumbered.  Before she could think about it too much and lose her courage, she stepped close and tilted her face up to be kissed.  It took her by surprise how different the kiss felt, when he could truly wrap his arms around her and she could melt into his embrace.  The kiss quickly became heated, and they were both breathless and red-faced when they came up for air.

"He really is a large man," Elyssa thought to herself.  She had never seen him fully without his armour, and had always assumed that a lot of his bulk was the platemail. But through the much thinner leather jerkin, it was apparent that Alistair, while not carrying any extra weight, was very much a giant-sized man.  She felt tiny in his arms, and it was a novel feeling; in her world, she was quite tall for a woman and often felt awkward, especially when towering over some of the suitors that came to call at the castle she grew up in.  It was a new experience to feel petite, and while she'd never have admitted it, she secretly reveled in the feeling.

Taking a deep breath, and refusing to make eye contact, Elyssa pushed away from Alistair and began unlacing the straps on one of her bracers.  He saw what she was doing, and immediately grabbed her hands, stopping them.

"I may not be as experienced as Zevran, but I'm fairly certain this part is my job," he said.  He gestured to Elyssa to sit on the edge of her sleeping pallet, still holding her hands, and he knelt down in front of her.  Letting go of one hand, he began methodically unlacing the straps on her bracer.  Trying not to let her shaking show, Elyssa bit her lower lip and clenched her other hand.  As her bracer finally came free, Alistair kissed the inside of her forearm lightly before letting go and repeating the process on the other side.  She had left her boots outside as well, so next he unlaced her shoulder armour and it fell away as a piece, exposing the elaborate straps holding her leather chest armour together.  Leather armour is surprisingly protective due to the multiple layers of overlapping leather plates, but is not intuitive to put on or remove, if unfamiliar with the particular armourer's method.  Elyssa gestured to Alistair to show him where to start, and after a sweet, gentle kiss, he began.

"You know I grew up in the Chantry.  And like I said - I've never done anything like this before.  But before I went to the chantry, I was a child in Redcliffe Castle.  My mother was a servant there, and as you know, the Arl took me in when she died.  My mother had a close friend, an older lady who took care of me as an infant and raised me until I was sent to the Chantry.  She was a little, well, eccentric is a good word for her.  When I was eight or nine, she took me aside and told me that one day, when I was a man, I'd need a particular skill and she was going to make sure I had it.  She took me to her rooms, and there I found a dressmaker's dummy, wearing one of the Arlessa's fine ball gowns that had been torn at their last dinner party.  At first, I thought she expected me to try mending it or some such, and was about to protest loudly the unmanliness of the task, but she hushed me and proceeded to show me how to remove the dress, and then put it back on.  She made me practice it dozens of times, until I was well familiar with the laces and stays, able to undo them without thinking and aid a 'lady' in putting them back on.  I didn't understand it at the time, but in looking back I realized this was her eccentric version of the "birds and bees" talk.  Why she thought it appropriate at age eight, I don't know."

Alistair grinned at Elyssa, his eyes twinkling.

"I have to say, that in my head when I dreamed of this day, I never expected to apply those skills to a suit of armour instead of a fancy gown."

Elyssa giggled, and the last few layers of leather flexed, drawing a look of appreciation from Alistair as the molded outline of her breasts heaved enticingly.  Elyssa giggled again.

"How do you even manage to fight in combat with Morrigan around?"  Elyssa teasingly caressed her own breast through the tight leather.

"Who?"  Alistair stopped and pressed his lips against hers, demanding she open her mouth and teasing her tongue with his own.  After an eternity, he broke away, leaving her reeling.

 "I'll give armour this much, though - it definitely helps to build anticipation."

She laughed again, and helped him finish removing it.  She had just a thin shift on underneath, and it was damp with sweat, enticing him with glimpses of the soft curves underneath.  Steeling himself against the desire to press his face into her bosom, he steadfastly turned his gaze back to meet her eyes.  She reached up to loose her hair, but he grabbed her hand.  "May I?"  She nodded, and guided his hand to the long, elaborate pin holding her auburn hair in the sophisticated knot she always wore.  Her hair tumbled down over his hand; the complicated hairdo had concealed the luxurious waves of gorgeous red which fell almost to her waist.

He ran his hands through the silken mass, marveling in the soft tresses, becoming even more aroused as locks of hair curled down her front, simultaneously hiding and revealing the breasts below them.

"I had no idea your hair was so long!  And how do you keep it smelling of roses, out here in the wilderness?"  She smiled, but did not offer her secret.  "By the light, I couldn't have imagined you even more beautiful than you seemed earlier, but here you are.  I wish I had another word for it, but I don't.  You are so beautiful, Elyssa.  I love you, probably more than I should.  I know I don't deserve you, but I hope you know that I will do everything in my power to bring you happiness and joy."

"I love you too, my sweet giant.  I cannot say how grateful I am that you love me also, and your words are dear to me."  She paused.  "Now enough conversation, don't you think?  You still have work to do."

Alistair looked down to where she was gesturing, and groaned as he saw her leather pants.

"More blasted laces!  Andraste herself wouldn't have been this difficult to undress."  He impatiently began undoing laces, not even protesting when Elyssa began to help on the opposite side.  Finally finished, Alistair gently pulled and Elyssa lifted her hips to slide out of the thick pants.  Alistair's eyes widened and his mouth went dry as he saw the lengths of pale, smooth skin slide past.

"Close your mouth, love."

"Wha...I'm sorry, what?"  He looked up from her long, toned legs, and she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at him.

"Your mouth.  Close it, before you catch flies."

"Right.  I'll work on that."

"Come up here and kiss me, you big lug."

"Your desire is my command, my dear."  After a few eternities locked in his embrace, Elyssa gently pushed Alistair away, sliding down off the sleeping pallet to be beside him on the floor.  He was too distracted by tantalizing glances of her legs, and the curve of her hip and breast pressing against the fabric of her shift, to think to ask what she was doing.

"Alright.  My turn.  Sit here."  Elyssa reached out to prod Alistair onto the spot she had vacated on the sleeping pallet, but he resisted, instead rising from his knees and standing up, then offering her his hand to assist her back onto the sleeping pallet.

"You know, there are definitely some advantages to being a man."

"Oh, like what?  And don't say peeing standing up."

"That too!  But no, that's not what I was going to say.  The particular advantage I had in mind, is no pesky curves."  As he was speaking, he lifted his arms and slid out of the leather jerkin, then, grasping his pants at the waist, slid them down in one smooth move.  He was left with just a breechcloth, and it was Elyssa's turn to have her mouth dry out at the sight of the almost naked, toned body of the gentle Templar.  She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and Alistair blushed.

"And here I thought you liked my 'pesky curves'!  Would you prefer to go spend the night in Zevran's tent?"

"Oh, I love your pesky curves.  I'm just glad I don't have to do up all those blasted laces every day!"

"Why do you think I usually sleep in my armour?  Well, you're helping tomorrow, sir.  You just undid them all, you can have the decency to help do them back up!"

"Yes, Mistress.  Whatever you say, Mistress."  They both grinned at the familiar joke. The leader of a group of Grey Wardens was called a Master Warden, and since she was the current leader of Ferelden's surviving Grey Wardens - all two of them - he had decided that made her a Mistress.

Elyssa slid over on the pallet, reclining back and leveling a seductive gaze at Alistair.  She crossed her legs, in a move clearly calculated to tantalize but not reveal; it had the benefit of distracting Alistair's attention from her shaking hands and quavering voice.   "Well?  Are you going to join me?  Or shall I just get started on my own?"  She patted the space beside her.

He approached the pallet slowly, watching her face, suddenly nervous that this was all a joke and that she would send him away.  She smiled encouragingly, and reached up to take his hands as he sank to his knees beside her.  She pulled him down to lay beside her, and he settled onto his side so he faced her.  He propped himself up on one elbow, and she continued to hold his other hand, her fingers tracing the creases and scars gently.

"So..." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat and tried again.  "So, um, what now?"

"Alistair.  Tell me something.  Do you believe that I love you?  Really believe it?"

"I...I can't imagine why, and it stretches my ability to imagine it, but..yes.  I think I do."

"Then let's just stop talking for a while, okay?  And see where this goes without over-thinking it."

She reached up one hand to stroke his cheek, and he caught it and held it in place, nodding agreement.  She moved his hand to her waist, then tangled her own into his hair and pulled him, firmly, down to kiss her.  It started with a light brushing of their lips, but he returned, more sure of himself, to capture her lips with his own.  Soon he felt her lips part, and his tongue darted out to test the waters, brushing against her lip and gently probing.  Hers returned the favour and suddenly what had been a gentle kiss became much more intense, almost savage.  Elyssa felt Alistair lean over her, pressing her against the bed as her tongue dueled with his.  His leg fell across her hip, and Elyssa slightly parted her thighs to accommodate his between hers.  His hands stayed firmly in place, one in her long hair, one settled softly on her waist, but hers began to explore.  Hesitantly at first, but then gaining in confidence, she stroked down Alistair's cheek, to gently brush over the curve of his ear, which triggered a soft growl in the back of his throat.  She repeated that move, confirming the reaction, then proceeded down to his neck, which elicited a quick intake of breath and increased the intensity of the kiss even further.  She explored down over the rise of his collarbone, and the slight depression underneath, then down over the smooth hardness of his chest.  He groaned and pulled out of the kiss, leaning down to pant in Elyssa's ear.

"I cannot..mmm...concentrate...with you doing that!"  He gasped as her hand brushed over his nipple.  She turned her head, and without stopping the exploring of her hands, lightly licked his earlobe.  Getting the groaning reaction she expected, she briefly sucked his earlobe into her mouth at the same time as she circled a tickling finger around his nipple again, and he writhed in response.

"All's fair in love and war," she whispered.  "In case you weren't certain, this is the love part.  Love me, Alistair.  Dare to touch me.  Distract me, if you can, and I'll stop!"  The last was said with an audible smirk, and accompanied by another gentle flick to his nipple, which had condensed into a tiny, hard ball of quivering nerve endings.  He moaned, burying his face in the cascade of fiery hair that

spilled across the pillow, trying to collect his thoughts and slow his racing breaths.  Her hands kept moving, flustering him, and eventually with a soft roar he grabbed her wrists and pulled both of them up above her head where he trapped both with one of his massive hands.  She briefly struggled, testing his hold, and then settled down to wait and see what he would do.

Alistair didn't waste any time, stroking her cheek with his unoccupied hand, then while holding her in place, planting light teasing kisses on her forehead, her eyelids, cheeks, chin, and even nose.  She tried to capture his lips, but he pulled back after the lightest contact and she sighed.

“My turn.  And I'm not going to let you cheat and get me distracted again.  No more talking for you, either, unless you want me to find a way to silence you.”  Her eyes twinkled with amusement, and she nodded acquiescence.  He kissed her then, and she lay helpless, desperately kissing him back and trying to convey her love through just her lips.  His giant hand very gently gripped her chin and he turned her head away, exposing a long length of bare neck and her tiny, delicate ear.  He planted kisses alongside the line of her jaw, and then subjected her ear to the same delicious torture that she had inflicted upon his.  Between delightful kisses, he murmured endearments in her ear, and was rewarded by her wriggling underneath him.  He was reminded again of his naked thigh, pressed between her two equally unclothed legs, and she noted a surge in his manhood, which she could feel, hot against her hip.

Returning to his task, he left her ear and began slowly kissing and licking his way down her long neck.  On an impulse, he gently nipped at her with his teeth and heard her cry out softly.  He looked up to see her biting her lip, with the hint of tears visible in her eyes.

“Oh, my love, did I hurt you?  I'm so sorry.”  She shook her head no vigorously, tilting her head again to offer him her neck.  “No?  Oh.  Oh!  You liked that.”  She nodded enthusiastically, baring her neck again.  “Good to know.”  She growled in frustration as he returned to gentle kisses, then bucked beneath him when he suddenly bit her again.

Releasing her chin, he stroked the other side of her neck with his fingers, and she shivered.  Continuing to kiss down her neck, he encountered the hollow at the base of it, and he lingered there, kissing and teasingly touching his tongue to the area, relishing the subtle movements each caress brought forth.  He laughed when she groaned as his hand bypassed her torso, and went straight from her neck to her leg, as far down as he could reach without moving his head.  His hand stroked her calf, and her knee, and he marveled at the smoothness of her pale skin.  He was enraptured, and raised his head to watch his hand's slow progress up her leg.  Partway up her thigh he discovered the end of her shift, and he carried on over-top of it, feeling the perfection of her hip through the thin fabric. 

His fascination led to a brief loosening of his grip on her wrists as he explored her ticklish navel through the cotton shift, and she took advantage, bringing one arm down to grasp his hand.  She tugged it upwards, saying only one word - “Please,” - and brought it to rest gently on the swell of her breast.  When satisfied that he would not immediately remove his hand, she returned her wrist to his grasp above her head, and made a show of biting her lip again, as if to demonstrate her wish to follow his rules.

His eyes were glued to the hand that rested on her breast, and he almost felt disconnected from it as it gently flexed and curled to cup the soft flesh.  He heard her hum in satisfaction as he very gently squeezed his hand, and he felt her nipple harden against his palm.

He gazed into her eyes, muttering under his breath so softly Elyssa had to strain to hear his words.

“Maker have mercy on my soul, but I am lost.  Blight be damned; kingdom be damned.  I will never give this up.”

And then, releasing her hands, he kissed her with all the passion he could muster.  Elyssa grabbed his free hand with one of hers, and covered the other, trapping his hand in place on her breast, clinging to both as to a lifeline as she rode the wave of love and desire she could feel emanating from Alistair.  When the kiss ended, he wrapped his arms around her, buried his face in her neck, and she held him while he trembled.

Some time later, he released his tight grasp and sat up, looking away from Elyssa.

“Some masculine guy you've found, hey?  Losing it and practically blubbering the first time he is allowed to touch a woman.”

“Hey!  Alistair.  Stop.  It's okay!  I...”

“Oh, I know.  Probably old hat for you, anyway, isn't it?  You're the one with all the experience, after all.”

Elyssa scrambled up to kneel behind Alistair, placing her hands on his shoulders, trying to pull his resisting form back to lean against her.  Finally, frustrated, her voice sharpened into the tone of command he was used to hearing from her on the battlefield.

“Turn and look at me, blast you.  Stop talking before you say something you regret!  It's my turn to do the talking, and you will listen to me, or the Maker help you.”  Alistair stiffened, but allowed himself to be turned so he was leaning back against a pillow, facing her as she knelt in front of him.  He had thought to see anger, but in searching her face, could only find sadness.

“I knew as soon as I decided to invite you to stay the night with me that we would have to talk about this at some point.  Our culture seems to need to believe that the blushing, inexperienced bride will be taken off to her marriage bed by an experienced, sophisticated husband who will teach her what is expected.  I guessed that this reversal in our level of experience would bother you at some point.  I suppose we might as well have this discussion now rather than later when it will hurt more.

“I know you are actually the son of royalty, but as you were raised in the Chantry, you would not have seen the nobility and politics in Ferelden in the same way as someone who lived in that world – someone like me.  I was raised the daughter of a Teyrn, and second heir to the title of a Great House.  It no longer matters – my House is destroyed, and as a Grey Warden I could no longer be heir even if I wished – but you must understand the world I came from.

“Outsiders, and in fact, noble men, see the women in the nobility – those they are courting, those they married, even their daughters – as being beautiful trophies they hang on the wall, beside the elk horns and stuffed great cats, to be brought out on special occasions and shown off.  Or perhaps as chess pieces – pawns who can be utilized for gains, or sacrificed to avoid greater losses.  They see themselves as Master of the House (or future Master, depending on age), and believe the women in their lives live at their command.  Some of the women are truly loved, but it doesn't change their apparent uselessness in the eyes of the world.

“The truth is that the real power in Ferelden, at least in most of the Great Houses, is in the women.  The female nobility have become the invisible puppet-masters, the mysterious figures behind the throne, for their husbands and fathers.  The Noblemen have become skilled at detecting deceit from one of their own.  When the question is asked, for example about having the head of a rival House assassinated, if they have knowledge of the deed, the others will know.  The men must have plausible deniability.  So instead, their wives take care of it, with no one the wiser.  The husband believes that someone else serendipitously decided to have his rival offed at just the right time.  No one thinks to ask the questions of the wives!

“As girls, we are taken by our mothers, and trained.  There is a reason I am a rogue – so is virtually every other noblewoman in Ferelden.  Our training demands it.  My own mother is – was – an Assassin.  I have no idea where she got her training, but I do know my father was not aware of her skills.  She wanted to train me in the same trade.  I refused; I found the entire thing repulsive.  We argued at length, and the only thing that saved me in any small fashion was my manipulating my father into publicly supporting my 'hobby' of archery.  One cannot train as both assassin and ranger at the same time, so a ranger trainer had to be arranged.  My mother was incensed, and it didn't save me from all of her style of training.  More than once, I threatened to go to Father with what she was doing; but she was a skilled manipulator, and she always knew when to back down and when to press again so that I never actually did.

“She trained me in many things.  The martial arts – how to disable a man without killing him, how to defend myself if attacked; the arts of deceit - how to hide in the slightest of shadows, how to steal, how to palm a knife, pull a rabbit out of a hat; the diplomatic arts – how to ask the right questions, pull the right strings, and culture the right connections to be effective.  But the greatest art, according to her was the art of seduction.  In her mind, a girl could use her body to great effect, gaining affection and power, either to persuade her noble husband to do as she wished, or persuade a rival not to do something harmful to the House.  Blackmail was one of the more effective methods for controlling rivals, in her experience.

“In most things, Mother or one of her close friends was capable of training me.  But in the art of seduction, they had to try another way.  They had to bring in outside help.  Someone to teach me how to make a man putty in my hands, all the while making him believe it was his idea.

“The first I knew of it, I was just barely a woman, and sent to accompany a group of my father's men to an ally's castle.  It was the first time I had traveled without my parents or elder brother as a chaperone, and I was thrilled.  I truly felt like I was a trusted member of the family for once!  It was a three day journey.  I had my own fancy tent, set up each night at a distance from my honour guard and defended by a hand-picked soldier my mother sent to protect me.  The first night, all was well.  The second night, the hand-picked soldier came into my tent, just after I had fallen asleep.  I awoke when he pulled up my nightgown and climbed onto me.  He forced himself on me, and all the struggling and screaming was useless as the other men were too far away to hear it.  He took me three times that night.  He was just too strong.

“In the morning, he sat me down and told me that I had two choices.  I could turn him in, in which case he would probably be exiled, but due to influential friends, likely nothing worse would happen.  On the other hand, I would be ruined.  The stain of rape falls squarely on the woman, and I would never be able to rise above the rumours and gossip.  No one would marry me, I would be a drain on my parents as they aged, and eventually on my brother.  And the shame would taint my House, causing even further harm to those I loved.

“My other choice was to clean myself up, dry my tears, and act as if nothing had happened.  Tell no one, carry out whatever mission I had been sent on (I truly don't even remember what it was I was supposed to do once I arrived at my destination), and act as if it never happened.  He promised to disappear before we arrived back at Highever Castle, and I would never see him again.  No harm, no foul.  No one would know what happened to me, and he would get off without punishment.

“I'm sure you can guess what I did.  I was young, vulnerable, and very, very scared.  I kept quiet.  I managed to complete my task as an automaton, though I'm sure the people I was visiting were aware that something was wrong.  I survived his attentions for the two nights of travel back home, and then he kept his word and took off before our arrival at the castle.  I told my mother what had happened, in private, a few days later.  She commended me on a sensible decision.  She comforted me, and offered to teach me how to fight so that I could prevent what had happened from ever happening again.  It wasn't until years later that I realized the entire situation was a setup, that she had paid someone to rape me, just to get me to agree to start training.  To get me accustomed to dealing with unwanted sexual activity.  And probably, to test if I was smart enough to keep quiet, and capable enough to carry out a task even while hurting inside.

“For a while, we proceeded purely with physical training; fighting, sleight of hand, small missions to find items Mother had hidden around the castle, or to steal something or place something in the coat of a visiting dignitary without being caught.  Then one night mother approached me.  She told me she had been thinking about it, and was worried about my future.  She felt that I would be unable to hide my trauma from my future husband, and would be cast off the moment he realized he'd married a 'used' woman.  She was afraid I would flinch away from any man who tried to touch me, and I would give away my horrible secret.  And I knew she was right – I cringed every time a man who wasn't my father or my brother stood too close to me.  I'd never be able to hide my secret.

“She offered a solution – practice.  Like I had been practicing with daggers, rhetoric, and thievery, she felt I needed to practice being around men, being intimate with men, so I could learn to fool my future husband into believing that not only was I a virgin on our wedding night, but that I actually enjoyed his attentions.  I desperately did not want to, but I could not refute her logic.  She chose a man and had him brought to the castle.  My father was told he was my ranger trainer; in truth, he couldn't have drawn a bow, never mind hit anything with it.  He was actually sort of sweet, if very very stupid.  Mother made it clear to him that no matter what, he could never remain with me, and that if he ever spoke of our 'practice sessions', she would have him tortured and killed.  And she made sure the fool was stupid enough that I would not be able to fall in love.  So we practiced.  At first, it was just encountering him unexpectedly in hallways, lurking outside my bed chamber and the like.  It progressed to dancing, then hugging, then kissing, and eventually into bed.  Each step was carefully directed by Mother, and eventually I grew accustomed to being touched, and I learned not to be afraid.  It wasn't something I enjoyed, but despite my distaste, the results spoke for themselves.  I was able to pretend, at least on the outside, that I wasn't cringing in despair every time a man laid a familiar hand upon my person.

“The next step was to teach me to pretend I enjoyed it.  She instructed me in all the proper ways to act, complete with gruesome, detailed descriptions of the things I was to do to and with a man.  Once she was satisfied with my knowledge, she arranged for a soldier to be brought into what had become the usual deal – tell no one, don't get attached, and get paid – or be tortured to death if you broke the rules.  The man was a complete pig, which is, I'm sure, why she chose him.  He quite hated women, and half of my time with him was learning to manage not to have my face marked up so my father would not notice.  Mother said that was also good training, as not all noblemen are gentlemen, and the Maker only knew who I would end up married to.  Once I became proficient at avoiding being hit, I started to learn how to be proficient at providing pleasure, and faking my own.  Much to my dismay, I later learned that Mother often watched the sessions through a secret viewing chamber, and I was finally finished with him only when she herself approved of my performance.

“Arl Howe's attack interrupted Mother's next plans, which involved seducing the younger sons of other noble families, both to gain information and influence, but also as further practice.  Before the blight, she had planned several trips for me to spend time with her 'friends', all of whom had vulnerable younger sons.  A few days later I met you, and I have not left your side since.

“You can ask why I agreed to go along with my mother's plans; in retrospect, I can barely remember myself.  I can only say that each step seemed a logical one at the time, and that my mother was one of the best manipulators in all of Ferelden.  I tried to play her games, but she won.  Every last time, she won.  I know in my heart that my mother loved me, despite what she put me through.  I believe she even loved my father, in her own way.  I suspect that my training was nothing nearly as horrific as what she had to go through to become an assassin.  I still hate her for what she did to me, and for what she made me do.  I hate her for ruining any real relationship I could have had in the future.  And I love her, because she was my mother.

“When I met you...you were different than any man I had ever met.  Maybe because you were raised in the Chantry; maybe just because of who you are.  I had accepted my mother's view that all men were just there to be wielded for personal gain, trading my body and my dignity for my House or future husband.  I believed her when she told me that the best I could hope for was to tolerate a man's attentions, that finding pleasure in it was impossible.  You changed that.  For the first time, I saw what someone who lived in the Maker's Light looked like.  I didn't see any potential gain to seducing you, and that actually made me love you more because I knew I had no ulterior motive.  You are the best of men, someone I actually believe in, someone who can make positive change in this world.  And I am happy just to be near you.  One kiss was all it took for me to be certain that Mother was wrong – a woman can want to be with a man. 

“I could have – Mother would have said 'should have' – lied to you, and told you I was the inexperienced girl you wanted.  But I couldn't stand the thought of looking you in the face and lying to you, to sullying my love for you with that taint.  I had just hoped that this conversation would have happened later, or that perhaps I was killed by darkspawn before I had to admit to you the truth.  I know in the past you have been jealous of Zevran – the truth is, I wouldn't be with him if he was the last male alive.  He is just like me; like Mother.  He seeks personal gain through bedding me.  I have had enough of that attitude to last many lifetimes.

“I swear to you that I never used any of the 'skills' I have to deceive you, to seduce you.  I hope you believe me.  I truly do love you, and I will take that love with me when I meet the Maker.

“Knowing what you now know, I realize that I cannot be with you.  The ironic thing is, in all the ways that count, tonight would have been my first as well.  The first time a man touched me out of love; the first time I actually felt pleasure; the first time I chose, instead of having the choice made for me.  I am sorry, Alistair.  I vowed to myself not to lie about my background if you asked, but I apologize for the lie of omission.  I hope that I have not hurt you too badly, and that you can forgive me enough to continue on with our mission.”

Elyssa had recited the entire story in a low monotone, revealing no emotion until her last desperate plea for forgiveness.  She had practiced telling this story in her head dozens of times since realizing she had fallen in love, and was able to get through the retelling without tears or anger.  Alistair had listened quietly to the entire story, his face darkening with each new revelation.  His fists had clenched at some point, and had not yet relaxed, and Elyssa felt the full bore of his anger.  When she was done, they sat quietly, both lost in thought.  Elyssa studied Alistair's face, trying to determine how badly she had hurt him, to think of what to do next.  When he hadn't spoken in a few minutes, she rose, intending to search through the pile of discarded armour and clothing, to get dressed as quickly as possible and get away from the awkwardness.  Inwardly she cursed the leather armour that Alistair had so vocally reviled – it would take a while to dress, no matter how hard she tried to hurry.

Alistair caught her arm before she could clear the sleeping pallet.  She turned back, resigned to quietly accept any revulsion and anger that he wanted to vent.  She owed him that.  However, when she looked at his face, she did not see anger.  She saw quiet deliberation, mixed with some emotion she couldn't place.  His voice was pitched low, and sounded slightly hoarse, which seemed strange considering that she'd been the one doing all the talking.  He did not meet her eyes.

“Let's say...let's just assume for a minute that we are successful in stopping the blight, in killing the arch demon.  That we both survive.  That Ferelden has a future.  Can we do that for a moment?”  Thrilled with the casual assumption that he would stay with her party, she nodded eagerly, willing to answer any question that came out of the inference that he could remain her friend.

“Would you want things in Ferelden to go back to the old way?  Where women are the puppet masters and men oblivious?”

“No!  By the light of the Maker, no.  I cannot stand the thought of our people surviving the blight only to return to that sort of hopelessness.”

“And if you were to marry, to have a family, would you use your 'skills' to manipulate your husband, assassinate rivals, the sort of thing your mother did for your father?  Would you lie about your background?”

“I don't see marriage and family in my future, Alistair.  Not with my history.”  She didn't add 'not without you', but she hoped he heard it anyway.

“Humour me.  If you overcame your upbringing and got married, would you??

“Never.  I swear it.  I couldn't lie to you, and I'll never lie to another to hide my past.”

Alistair's hand slid down her arm, and it came to rest with her hand firmly grasped in his.  His voice cracked slightly, and he looked away, still refusing to make eye contact.

“And...and if we had a daughter, would you want her to be trained like you were?”

The world shifted under Elyssa's feet, and sent her mind reeling.  She tried to grasp the implications of the question, tried to fathom even the meaning of the words, but she couldn't hang on to any thought long enough.  She clung to his hand like a sailor would to any port in a storm.

“What?  We...if we...a daughter?...Alistair?” 

He finally met her eyes, and she realized what the emotion was she hadn't been able to recognize before.  It was intermixed with love and a good amount of righteous anger – but for her, not at her.  The main emotion was compassion. 

“Andraste's Ass, I'm an idiot.  I am so, so sorry.  For what you went though.  No woman – no child – should ever have to experience that.

“ I love you, Elyssa.  It feels like I always have.  And knowing what you've gone through...I know what you think of yourself, but none of that, none of it was ever your fault.  And none of that could leave a stain on your soul.  You are an amazing woman to have survived it, and no one could have expected you to do more.  You were tortured, by those who were supposed to love you, and somehow you survived.  With conscience intact, no less.  You deserve a medal for that, not to be tossed aside in indignation that some other man touched you before I did.

“If you will let me, Elyssa...I would like to be your first.  I would like to share my life, my love, my desire with you.  I would like to be the man who gets to be the one to show you that you deserve happiness, and joy, and pleasure more than the next woman, if anything.  And I would like to be the one to help you rebuild, once this crisis is over, and change our culture so that no other girl has to survive what you went through.

“I'm not saying I'll be particularly skilled as a lover, or even as someone to help you rebuild, but I hope I can make up for lack of skill with trying my very best, every minute of every day, to be worthy of you.  Will you let me?”

Elyssa sat, stunned, still clinging to Alistair's hand.  He used that connection to very gently tug her towards him.  His face radiated love, and it was that which was her undoing.  She crumpled towards him as her guard fell and she broke out into tears.  He caught her, and cradled her into his lap like a mother would a baby, rocking her and rubbing her back, whispering comforting nonsense into her ear.  He held her until the sobs quieted, and then stopped altogether.  He continued to just hold her, letting her rest and take comfort from his warmth and his presence, sensing she wasn't ready to talk yet.  He kept rubbing her back, gentle circular motions like he was taught to do for a panicked horse.  Elyssa finally raised her head, clearing her throat and using the shoulder of her shift to wipe away her tears.

“I know what you're up to, young man.”

“What?”  Alistair was taken aback.

“You think if you just sit there looking all innocent, I won't notice that you're just trying to sneak a feel when I'm vulnerable.”

“I do?”

“Yes.  You do.  Why would you question your Mistress?”

“I don't know, Mistress.  I apologize.”

“Darn right you do!”  Amused, she snuggled into his bare chest, feeling his strong arms flex around her.  They sat silently for a few more minutes, just savouring the contact.

“You didn't answer my question, Elyssa.”  His serious tone demanded her attention, and she leaned away from the big man to see a serious expression on his handsome face as well.

“Which question was that?”

“Will you let me, Elyssa?  Will you let me be yours?”

Elyssa paused and stifled a flippant response.  She awkwardly clambered off Alistair's lap, which was both erotic and embarrassing, and pushed him back to recline against the pillows on the sleeping pallet once more.  Then she giggled in amusement at his shocked expression as she swung her leg over, straddling his thighs, kneeling with one leg on each side, her bare bottom resting just above his knees.  She reached down and grabbed the hem of her shift, and before he could even formulate words, lifted it off, throwing it over her shoulder to land in a heap with the rest of her armour.  For the first time, Alistair saw her in all her naked glory.  One breast peeked out through a thick wave of red hair, while the other was bare.  Her skin was pale and unblemished, though a smattering of the same freckles that crossed her nose also dotted her shoulders and chest.  Her breasts were firm and small, showing no sag, and her nipples were almost raspberry and stiff with the chill in the tent.  Her small thatch of red hair hid her womanhood from him, but he could feel the heat of it on his thigh.  A blush spread across her chest as she sat, allowing him to stare at her, and she noticed his rising interest under his breech cloth.  When he finally managed to collect himself and draw his gaze back up to her face, she smiled softly at him, lessening his embarrassment at being caught gawking.

She took his hand and kissed the palm, then nuzzled her cheek into it.

“Let you?  Alistair...my answer is yes.  Not only will I let you, but I will beg you if necessary.  By all rights, you should hate me, revile me.  But your face, your words say otherwise.  You have saved me, my love.  Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!”  This last was whispered into his ear before she pressed herself to him, losing herself in a kiss that topped all previous kisses for intensity.  Her breasts pressed up against his chest, and he could feel the hard pebbles pressing against his skin.  His arms crushed her tighter to him, and she allowed herself to be pulled forward to lay against him.  Her hands explored his face and neck, shoulders and upper arms, marveling in the strength she could feel.  His hands, in turn, roamed over her back, alternately stroking her hair and kneading her delicate skin.  She could feel the hardness of him pressing against her thigh, and feel his whole body twitch every time some subtle movement caused friction against it through the breech cloth.

When she finally surfaced for air, Alistair realized she had shifted so somehow she was now kneeling between his legs.  He felt hideously exposed, his arousal obvious even with the breechcloth, and pointing straight at her as she knelt.  Her eyes seemed locked in place on it, and after a moment she shook herself slightly and then reach for the ties holding the breechcloth in place.  She checked his face for permission, and when he bit his lip and nodded slightly, she removed and tossed the fabric onto the pile that had formed in the corner of her tent.

His erection had wilted somewhat with his nervousness, but despite that Elyssa realized that in this he was proportioned just as the rest of him was – giant sized.  Her eyes widened perceptibly, and Alistair noticed enough to briefly distract from his acute nervousness.

“Something wrong, love?”

“Oh...no.  Nothing wrong.  Just um...well, listen.  I have these...'skills'.  And I paid for them in spades.”  Alistair nodded.

“So, is it fair game, to, well, to use them?  Not to manipulate, but just because I want to?”

“I don't know, Beautiful.  I can't even think straight with you sitting there naked.  What did you have in mind?”

In lieu of an answer, Elyssa reached forward, wrapping one warm hand along the length of his shaft.  He groaned, and the flesh hardened and stretched while she watched.  She made eye contact once again, briefly.

“You can touch.  But no grabbing, okay?”  She interrupted his confused reply by leaning forward, licking her lips, and then slowly licking up the length of his shaft with the very tip of her tongue, before engulfing the head in her warm, moist mouth.  Her hair cascaded over his thighs, down to his heavy sack, and across his abdomen.  She could barely fit the entire head into her mouth, and she started softly sucking, flickering her tongue along the sensitive underside, gently caressing the shaft with both hands.

“What...what are you doing?  Oh...Maker's Breath, 'Lys, I didn't know you could...I'm going to...” With that little warning, he erupted.  Elyssa expected it, and proceeded to maintain the suction as he filled her mouth with his seed, spurt after spurt.  He groaned and writhed, and she held on, maintaining contact until he convulsed one last time, than collapsed back onto the pillows.  She kissed his member softly, then slid up to lay beside him, tucked into the crook of his arm, her head on his shoulder while he panted and gasped in recovery.  She spent the few moments staring silently at the scar that had almost taken him from her, visible under his arm only when he held it up.  When he had caught his breath, he followed her gaze to see her finger gently tracing along the thickened, faded pucker.

“Best scar I've ever had,” he declared.  When she wrinkled her brow in confusion, he rolled to his side and smoothed her forehead with his free hand.  “It got me you.  I never would have been brave enough to tell you how I felt, if I hadn't heard you say it first.  And I'm guessing here, so correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think you had plans to spill your feelings to me until you thought I was dying.”  She shook her head in agreement, a rueful smile on her face.  “See?  Best scar ever.”  She nodded in thoughtful silence, and finally kissed the scar gently before settling back into his embrace.

“So...are we going to talk about that?

“About what, dearest?””

“About what we...you just did?”

“What's to talk about?  I thought it would give you pleasure.  I was right.”

“Yes, but...'Lys, I thought we were going to...you know, together.  If you didn't want to, you didn't have to do something like that to avoid it.”

“Who says I'm avoiding anything?  We are going to, you know, together.  In a few minutes.  And then again in a little while.  And as many more times as I can coax you into before the sun rises.”

“But, Elyssa, I...can't.  Not now!  I just did.  And it felt...well, I never dreamed of anything that felt that good, but it was such a selfish thing!  I want us to do this together, not you giving me pleasure without anything in return.”

“I have a few problems with that statement.  First of all, do you have any idea how arousing it is to have the power to turn someone to jelly like that?  I definitely got something out of that.  And secondly..”  She paused dramatically, snaking her hand down between their bodies.  “I think you overestimate the time you'll need for recovery before round two.”

Alistair realized as her small hand gently cupped his manhood that she was right – he was starting to harden again already, but this time he found the urge for completion a more distant thing, something he was in control of rather than the other way around.

“I bought us the time we need to do this right.  And I enjoyed doing it.  Now.  Can we stop talking for a while?”

He kissed her then, steeling himself for some sort of bitter taste, but he didn't notice anything different than normal, and he relaxed into the kiss.  He found he still felt the desire, but his urgency had abated some, and he was able to concentrate more on what he was doing.  He began trying different things, listening and feeling for her reactions, trying to determine what she liked.  His hand explored her face, her ear, and her neck, which elicited a soft gasp.  He stroked her arm and her back, avoiding the more sensitive areas at first, teasing her.  His hand again skipped her torso, and again sought out her leg, caressing the soft skin.  This time nothing impeded him, and he trailed his fingers sensuously up to her hip, sliding back to gently cup her bottom before finding its way up to the middle of her back again.  She was panting by now, eyes glazed over when he pulled out of the kiss, and he decided to follow the path his fingers had made with his lips.  He licked and kissed his way down her neck, nibbling little love bites periodically and enjoying the way that made her writhe.  Then he skipped down to her leg, kneeling by her feet and carefully lifting one slim calf to kiss and caress, then proceeding up past her knee to her thigh.  He avoided her centre, but made her giggle and gasp as he kissed in the slight crease where her leg met her body.  He carried on further up, teasingly kissing and licking her navel while she panted in breathless laughter. 

As he lay beside her again, gazing down on her beautiful face, she took his hand, again only whispering one word - “Please,” - and then placing his hand gently back on the swell of her breast.  He kissed her as her nipple hardened against his palm, and she arched her back as he softly squeezed her entire small breast in one massive hand.  He released her, and very gently fluttered his thumb over her nipple, and she gasped.  He felt her weight shift, and then one small hand snake up to tangle in his hair.  As he teased her nipple again, she squeezed her hand, not-so-subtly indicating she wanted more.  Each time he did it, she tugged on his hair, until he broke away from the kiss, laughing.

“You're so impatient, love!”  She growled and tugged again, and finally taking the hint, he surrounded her small breast with his hand and lowered his head to engulf her nipple in his mouth.  She cried out softly and bucked under him, but he held her in place and continued torturing the small nub.  He flicked it with his tongue, then remembering her neck, he gently bit down.  Her cry skipped up an octave, and she thrashed in his arms, her nipple pulling from his mouth accompanied by a startled yelp as his teeth scraped across the tender nub.

“Alistair,” she gasped.  “If you do not stop teasing me and take me right now, I swear I will get up, stomp out to the campfire naked, and find someone who will.”  She poked and prodded him until he was laying across her, elbows taking most of his weight, her thighs spread around his invitingly.

“Do it.  Do it now.  I need you in me.”  She reached down with her hand, positioning him at her entrance.  He noted with a start that she was correct – he was ready.  She briefly swiped the head through some of the moisture pooling near her opening, and he was surprised to feel how wet she was down there. 

“Umm...that's...wet?"

“You do good work, apparently.  Now kindly shut up, and take me!”  She held his shaft gently as he thrust his hips, and they both groaned as the head buried itself inside her.  Alistair couldn't believe the heat of her, and how tight the constriction of her opening, and he suddenly realized what she had meant by 'buying time'.  He knew that if he had gotten this far before, he'd have finished right then and there.  He paused, savouring the feeling.

“Hey, um, can you just hold still for a second?  I need a minute.  I just need to adjust.”

“Everything okay?”

“It will be.  I just need a minute...you are not a small man, Alistair.”

“Oh, sorry, thought I had my weight on my elbows.  Am I squishing you?”

“No, no.  Not that.  I...am squishing you, actually.”

“Oh!  Am I hurting you?  I had understood that usually happened only the first time.”

“Yes, well, I'd guess that normally that would be true.  But it has been a long time, and like I said – you are not a small man.”  Elyssa could practically hear that thought traveling from his head down to his manhood, and it throbbed in response.  He kissed her, savagely, his animal nature asserting itself to claim his territory, and she responded in kind.  Their tongues dueled, and he growled in triumph as he claimed her mouth just as he claimed her.  He realized with a start that he was suddenly buried in her, almost as deep as he could go.  He released her to attempt to pull back, but she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, and moaning into his mouth as he complied, her pubic hair tickling his belly as he hit bottom.  His instincts kicked in, and he pulled back, just a tiny bit, before burying himself again.  She was so tight around him that he almost couldn't move, and it kept his thrusts small at first, to her relief.  His pelvis ground against hers, and a spark of pleasure and desire flared just above where they joined.  His thrusts became longer, and harder, and each time that spark would flare for her, lasting longer and burning brighter.  She threw her head back, and a whimper escaped as he bottomed out again, and again.  He leaned down and bit into the flesh of her neck, hard enough to leave marks but not break skin.  The whimper became a howl, and she dug her nails into his shoulders, the spark finally ignited and burning hotly, building towards something she couldn't explain.

“Elyssa?”

“I love you Alistair.  Oh, Light, but I do.  Oh, please...please...”

“What, 'Lys?   Tell me what.”

“Oh, I...hope you're close.”

“I am, love.  I'm trying to hold back.  You tell me, okay?  I'll try to wait.”

“Don't...don't wait.  Now, Alistair.”

“Now?”

“NOW!”  She arched her back again, and was hit by a bolt of lightning.  Every nerve ending seemed to light from the torch that now burned in her belly, and every little sensation drove her pleasure further and further up.  A sudden breeze on her neck, the tickle of her own hair on her shoulders, the lingering feeling of his teeth on her neck, and his glorious thrusts into the centre of her all drove her over the edge, and she clung to him as the lightening burned through her system. 

Alistair felt her clamp down on him, her already tight opening gripping him like a vice.  She let out a high pitched keen, and the pleasure radiating from his manhood combined with his overwhelming love for her, and he came as she convulsed in orgasm beneath him.  He collapsed down onto her, no longer able to support his own weight, and she yelped and convulsed again as he involuntarily thrust even deeper as he fell.

As they both floated back down to ground, he realized that he was sprawled over her, legs and arms tangled, crushing her to the hard pallet.  He was still buried deeply inside her, though softening.  He started to move, to lift himself off her, but she wrapped her arms and legs around him and held tightly, and he settled back down on her.

“Love?  I'm sure you can't breathe under there.”

“Don't go yet.  I'll manage.”

“I'm not going anywhere, but why don't we at least roll over?”

“No.”

“I'm going to crush you!”

“Then I will die happy.”  He laughed, triggering a shuddering aftershock in her body underneath him.

“Now, be reasonable, 'Lys.  What about the blight?  You're still needed here.”

“Why would I care?  I'll be dead.”  Unable to come up with an argument to that statement, he made a different decision, and wrapping his arms tightly around her, he rolled them both over with brute strength, so he lay on his back and she remained impaled on top of him.

“Bully.”

“No, just a selfish bastard.  I would like to do this again sometime, and it would be inconvenient to me to have to start again with someone else.”

“Again?  Like...how about now?”

“Little minx!  No, not now.”  She waited for a moment, then, impishly grinned.

“Okay, how about now, then?”

“No.”

“Now?”  His softening manhood finally slipped out from her, and remained nestled between their thighs.

“What do you think?  You know, I am not just an automaton to be used for your pleasure.”

“You're not?”

“No!”

“You sure you wouldn't like to be?”  She propped her chin on her crossed wrists on his broad chest, giving him a silly grin.  He started laughing, and she chuckled before settling back to snuggle against his chest again.

“Seriously though.  Did I hurt you?  Oh by the Hells, your neck.  Did I do any damage?”

“Relax, love.  My neck is fine.  Wonderful, actually – I had no idea I had that spot there!”

“Was it...all...okay?  I tried to wait, but...”

“Alistair.  Even a woman faking it wouldn't wake the entire camp the way we just did.  That was way better than okay, and I think you know it.”

“You really think we woke them all?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“So...they all know, now, I guess?”

“Alistair, honey, they all knew already.  They heard me say I love you.  And did you notice the way they all disappeared after making camp early?  I didn't plan for my tent to be so far from the centre of camp like this – it was Leliana's turn to put up the tents.  And normally my bedroll only has room for one!  I bet you'll find that those are a few of your personal items in that little case over there on the stool.  This was only a surprise to you and me, handsome.  Everyone else already knew.”

While she was talking, Elyssa had slid snuggled in to lay her head on his shoulder and pull the blankets up over them both.  She jumped as Alistair suddenly cursed.

“Damn that Wynne!”

“What??”

“Did you see her talking to me at mealtime tonight?  She tried to have a discussion with me about where babies come from.  It was awkward and weird, and I finally managed to chase her off without having the full discussion.  I was mortified, and confused...I just remembered, and now I know why she was going on about it.”  Elyssa laughed. 

“I would have thought she would try to discourage this.”

“Me, too.  I guess the old bird still has a few surprises for us!  You know, our companions are going to gossip about this.  They do that.”

“First one to make a smart comment gets fed to the darkspawn.”

“See?  That is why I love you.”

Elyssa lay in Alistair's arms, and allowed her hand to wander over his strong chest, occasionally being swatted at for tickling.  To his surprise, Alistair remained aroused, and began to harden again as they held each other.

“You know, according to the sisters at the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.  They were very clear.  Very...detailed imagery.”

“Maybe it will still happen?”

“I hope not!”

“Well, you know the good thing?  If we haven't been struck by lightning by now, and there's some sort of delay until the morning comes...the Maker can't very well kill us twice, can he?”

“Why would he do it twice?”

“Well, three times.  At most.  Unless you think you can manage a fourth....”  With that she carefully sat up, still on top of him, sliding back until she felt him near her entrance.  She gasped as his hardness glided through her moist folds, stimulating the pleasure spot she had discovered earlier.  Reaching underneath herself, she held his shaft and slowly lowered herself onto it until she could kneel, hands on his chest for support.  Then, cautiously, she lifted, and settled back down again feeling him shudder underneath her.  He took her hands, and their fingers intertwined as she continued slowly impaling herself on him, clinging to each other as the pleasure mounted again.

He gasped.  “And here I thought we might have a lasting relationship.”

“Why wouldn't we?” 

“Four?  You'll kill me before morning at that rate!”


End file.
